Centech Shipping and Packaging had been bought out by a larger company stripped and left to die on the outskirts of Las Vegas twenty-five years ago. In its day it had been part of a burgeoning industrial center but times change and the fickleness that permeates Vegas took its toll. The shuttered factory watched as its neighbors slowly dwindled away, attracted to fancy industrial parks with juicy tax abatements, so that it now sat virtually alone with only the passing trains as company.
            The lone road that led to the factory had long since been placed at the bottom of the streets department list. Deep furrows lined the pavement allowing for yellow brown weeds to poke through and dirt and sand had filled in the gutters, blown in from the nearby desert. To the naked, unobservant eye it appeared as a ghost town. To a more trained eye there were clues that spoke of a whisper of a heartbeat emanating from the red brick and gray steel building that sat at the far end of the dead end street.
            The recently replaced chain link gate and the muted buzz of electricity within the adjacent guard shack told Grissom that someone was in residence. The building sat back and slightly above the road some hundred yards with open ground and a massive dilapidated parking lot sitting in between. The guard shack was a single man, brick outpost sitting to the left of the gate with the windows boarded up with plywood.
            Grissom used the shack and the inclination of the landscape to obscure the Denali from any inhabitants within the factory. Jumping out of the truck, Grissom’s right hand automatically came down to check the weapon at his side as he quickly made his way over to the guard shack, scanning the fence going either direction. The chain link fence was topped with two horizontal lines of barbwire, making scaling the fence a very painful option.
            “Grissom!” Greg’s hushed exclamation barely caught the older man’s attention, as Grissom tried to work his fingers up under the plywood covering the street side window.
            “Grissom,” Greg planted himself at the corner of the guard shack. Cautiously peering around the corner at the factory, Greg quietly pleaded, “Let’s wait for Brass, okay… backup.”
            Grissom had been successful in getting both hands underneath a lower corner of the plywood. Placing his foot against the side of the shack for leverage, Grissom pulled. Gritting his teeth and groaning with the exertion, he slowly peeled the wood away to reveal the interior of the shack and the door leading through the fence.
            “Grissom…please,” Greg begged, not liking where this was all going.
            Grissom dashed his head around the corner of the shack, checking for any hidden dangers before marching off to the rear of the Denali. Undoing the top three buttons of his dress shirt, Grissom hurriedly yanked the shirt over his head and tossed it into the rear of the truck.
            “Listen Greg,” Grissom’s voice had a rough edge to it as he slipped his forensics vest over the white t-shirt he was wearing, “I want you to stay here-“
            “No!” Greg shook his head forcefully, “We stay together and wait for Brass.”
            Grissom almost smiled at his young CSI. There was nothing he could do to stop him but the fact that he was willing to try… well, somewhere in the deep recesses of Grissom’s mind, he appreciated that.
            Grissom slipped his flashlight into one of the tool pouches on the vest then reached in popped one of the two-way radios from the charger housed in the rear of the vehicle and clipped the radio to his breast pocket.
             Greg watched nervously as Grissom pulled his gun from its holster and checked the clip quickly. “Backup’s going to be here any minute,” he stated trying to insert reason into the situation.
            Grissom reached into the truck and snatched the second two-way, handing it to a very worried Greg Sanders. “I’m on channel 2,” he said darting to the guard shack and hopping up to sit on the open window sill. “See the old conveyor system on the east side of the building?” Grissom pointed. “That’s where I am headed.” Grissom slid into the guard shack his eyes darting between the building and Greg. “You STAY HERE,” he ordered jabbing his finger at the ground before them.
            “DAMN IT GRISSOM!” Greg kept his voice low but his emotions were starting to get the better of him. “This is not our job. Wait for Brass!”
            For a brief moment Grissom hesitated and Greg hoped upon hope that the man had finally relented to reason. Lifting his gaze from the floor, Grissom’s shaded eyes landed on Greg. “You are a good man, Greg.”
            Greg stared, not knowing what to say or do. He could hear the pace of his heart in his ears increasing and felt unsteady on his feet. “Gris…” he pleaded in a soft voice.
            Grissom slid over to the door that opened to a massive courtyard on the other side of the fence, the hanging moment of hope was gone. “Channel 2,” he reiterated before dashing out the door.
            Greg yanked his weapon from his holster and covered Grissom as the man followed a natural shallow ridge where the ground was higher. He was able to keep Grissom in sight for a dozen yards before the natural topography of the land obscured his line of sight.
            “SHIT!” he cursed on a rush of breath before hopping up into the guard shack window and swinging himself in.
            Running low, Greg made his way where the drive to the factory and the ridge intersected. Kneeling down behind the rise of the ground, Greg was able to find Grissom ahead of him and to his right while still keeping an eye on the front of the factory. Behind him were the guard shack and the gate still easily visible from his position. Ducking his head, Greg pulled his cell phone from his front pocket and dialed Brass.
            “JIM! He wouldn’t listen to me!” Greg rushed, popping his head up over the ridge to see where Grissom was.
            The string of curses that emanated from his phone would have made Greg blush if he wasn’t more concerned about the man approaching the conveyor system attached to the exterior of the building. Greg watched as his boss climbed into the lower end of the conveyor and slowly made his way up the forty-five degree angle to the upper levels of the factory.
            “Damn it,” Greg muttered, turning his attention back to the furious police captain on the other end of his phone.
            “He’s inside,” Greg interrupted as he ran in a crouch across the drive, following in the direction that Grissom had gone. He didn’t want to go anywhere near that factory with out Brass and backup but he couldn’t leave Grissom to himself. What if Bathory was in there?
            “Greg, we are two minutes away. You stay where you are!”  Brass commanded in a raspy, out of breath voice.
            “Alright,” Greg replied despite the fact he was making his way closer to the building.
            Where the hell had Grissom gone? Greg had watched him go up the conveyor chute but had lost sight of him when he reached the top. Had he made it into the building? Is there anybody even in there? With a huff he dropped to the ground not knowing what his next move should be.
            The afternoon sun was relentlessly beating down on Greg, angrily he swiped away the heavy trickle of sweat running down his forehead and threatening his eyes. Darting his tongue out to nervously lick his lips, Greg scooted sideways to try and get a better look at the upper portion of the conveyor while keeping a watchful eye on the many doors that led into the building.
            The two minutes it took for Brass to show up felt like two lifetimes. Kneeling in the dirt, Greg pondered his options.
            “SANDERS!”
            Greg spun on the balls of his feet a little startled by the voice so near, remaining crouched he saw Brass making his way along the ridge towards him. He had never been so happy to see another human being in his life and the fact that he was on Greg’s side and had a gun was a big bonus as far as Greg was concerned.
            “Aww man, thank God you’re here!” Greg’s head rolled and sunk in relief.
            “I told you to stay put,” Brass accused angrily, squatting down beside Greg he took in the location.
            “I did…sort of.”
            “GREG!” Sara’s hushed voice was filled with urgency. Like Brass, Sara and Nick had followed along the ridge, having spotted Greg from their lower vantage point.  Greg could see the worry etched into all their faces and knew it surely must match his own.
            “I’m sorry Sara. I tried to stop him, I swear,” Greg almost pleaded. The fierce look on the woman’s face almost made him fear her more than what was in the building. Greg wasn’t too proud to reveal that he was scared of Sara from time to time.
            Sara scanned the building. Their were numerous doors but few windows on the ground floor and what windows she noted had been spray painted. No unwanted eyes? Sara wondered.
            “Where’s Grissom?” Sara asked not able to spot him.
If on cue a banged up and well used metal door swung open. Exiting the building was a young man in a sleeveless gray tee shirt and baggy tan cargo pants. The dark sunglasses obscured his eyes but there was no mistaking the man that had been in the court room the day before.
            “Toller?” Sara asked looking for confirmation from the three men.
            Nick nodded. The deep frown on his face didn’t do the anger and worry boiling in his chest justice. “Yeeaa,” he hissed preparing to rise from his position and confront the man walking the perimeter of the building.
            “Hold Stokes,” Brass ordered holding out an arm to stop the man from advancing. “There is too much real estate between us, too many chances for him to get off a few rounds.”
            Brass watched as Jacob Toller walked along the east side of the building, disappearing into the metal girders of the conveyor assembly before slowly returning. His body language told brass that he wasn’t looking for anything in particular so he wasn’t likely aware of their presence or Grissom’s.
            Brass cursed under his breath. If Toller was in the building then it was reasonable to assume the rest of Bathory’s crew was there as well- and Grissom! “SHIT!” he swore aloud angry that he was going to have to rely on the three CSIs to help him get Grissom secured. He’d called for back up to arrest Bathory and his men but his new priority Grissom’s eviction from the building.
            Turning to Nick, Sara and Greg he could feel the weight of their fear on his shoulders. To their credit he knew that they were more afraid for their boss than they were for themselves. Crazy bastard needs his ass kicked! Brass thought of his friend.
            “Okay, here’s how it is going down… Nick, Sara, head for the cover of the conveyor…Greg you’re with me. We are going to head towards that far door near the northeast corner. Soon as Sanders and I are at the door we will cover you.”
            Three sets of heads bobbed quickly.
            “Now listen, we get Grissom, we get out, we wait for backup- UNDERSTAND.” Brass raised a brow at the three energetically nodding their heads at him.
            Brass waited until Toller reentered the building. Sucking in a giant breath and blowing it out forcefully, Brass nodded and all four bolted from their cover, tearing up the open distance until they were safely concealed once more.
            Brass and Greg had run underneath the conveyor framework, pausing momentarily to assure they had not been spotted before approaching the corner near the back of the building. Sara and Nick had unknowingly traced Grissom’s steps. Reaching the lowest end of the conveyor belt the two CSIs crouched, quickly covering their colleagues.
            “I’ll go first,” Nick said breathlessly his back pressed up against a metal support beam as his sunglass covered eyes darted cautiously to the door Toller had used
            Sara nodded solemnly as she scooted under the cover of sheet metal covering the lower mechanisms of the conveyor system. Two hands on the grip of her pistol, Sara prepared herself for anything that might come out of the building. Her senses were hyper focused. She could feel the wind kissing the sweat from the back of her neck, could smell the hot industrial smell of oil, dust and asphalt baking in the late afternoon sun and even though she knew it wasn’t as loud as it sounded in her ears, Sara could hear every thump of Nick’s feet as he covered the distance between them and Brass.
            It was a twenty yard dash that felt like mile long jog. No matter how low she tried to keep her head she still felt dangerously exposed and was hit by an incredible wave of relief when she stumbled to her knees along side Nick.
            “I swear…I’m going to…put him out of my misery…when this is done,” Sara gasped between breaths.

            ****************************************************************

            Catherine darted her head into Grissom’s office after being unsuccessful finding him anywhere else in the lab. She had attempted to call him on his cell with no success and was beginning to feel the cold of uneasy settle into the pit of her stomach. “Where the hell is he now?” Catherine asked herself in frustration.
            “Hey Cath,” Warrick sauntered up from behind Catherine his face a mixture of curiosity and worry.
            Like Catherine he had gone home got some sleep and cleaned up and looked refreshed despite the edge of concern that tinted his visage. Falling into step next to Catherine Warrick looked down and knew that he was not the only one concerned about the lack of graveyard personnel in the building.
            “Where is everyone?” he asked making room in the hall for a tech with a rolling cart to make his way in the opposite direction.
            Catherine shook her head. “I don’t have a clue. Grissom isn’t in his office and he’s not answering my calls. Greg is missing and not answering his phone…the same for Sara and I haven’t tried Nick yet,” she said as she reached for her cell phone and attempted to get in touch with Nick.
            Warrick pulled his phone out and started calling his coworkers in the order that their names came up on his call list. With each attempt he found himself listening to their voicemails.
            “Nothing,” he informed Catherine snapping his phone shut in aggravation.
            “What’s the point of having a cell phone…IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO ANSWER IT!” Catherine yelled the last, her fists pumping in the air.
            Warrick reached out and grabbed her shoulders. “Whoa-whoa, take it easy Cath. It’s probably nothing, okay?”
            Catherine nodded and was about to apologize to Warrick for her unexpected outburst when Sofia Curtis came running down the hall, snapping her flak vest across her chest behind her a cadre of cops all looking as if they were heading into combat.
            Sofia rushed up to Catherine and Warrick, the sheer amount of tension emanating from the detective was enough to set solid metal to vibrating.
            “Sofia?” The cold was spreading radiated up out of her belly and reached into her chest. This isn’t good, Catherine thought dismally.
            “We may have found Bathory,” Sofia stated pulling her lanyard held I.D. from under her vest.
            “Good,” Warrick blurted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in excitement.
            Sofia shucked her head to one side. “Actually, Grissom might have found him.”
            Catherine could hear a distinct buzz in her ears as her mind filled in the upcoming conversation. She knew without being told that Grissom had landed himself right in the middle of the war Sofia and her colleagues were heading towards. Groaning Catherine placed her hand on Sofia’s arm and ushered her towards the door.
            “We’ll follow you,” Catherine muttered as Warrick fell into step behind the two women.
            “Is anyone with Gris?” Warrick asked his hand resting subconsciously on his weapon on his hip.
            “Brass, Sara, Nick and Greg are all on site with Grissom,” Sofia glanced back at Warrick as they burst out into the bright sunlight of a Nevada day.
            Catherine and Warrick watched as Sofia and Vartann pulled out followed closely by Detectives Cavaliere and Vega.
            “Come on Cath,” Warrick patted the woman’s upper arm as he bounced in the direction of one of their Denalis, Catherine quickly following.

            ***************************************************************

            Grissom followed the catwalk his footfalls barely perceptible to himself, were non-existent to anyone that might be moving below him. He had briefly caught sight of Toller as the man had gone back and forth across the immense open area on the ground floor. Occasionally, his ears could pick out the muffled sounds of voices but he had not been able to pinpoint their origin.
            He felt every molecule in his body hum like he was infused with electrical power. His skin tingled and his being felt vast, beyond the confines of his body. Grissom felt invincible, as insane as it was. He inhaled deeply, soaking up the sensation and only briefly wondered what had happened to the man he once was.
            His rare moments of anger were few and far between and generally well justified. There had always been a subtle build up to his outbursts and an understandable ebb and flow to his moods but now…now, he was cast upon a cataclysmic emotional storm where the best he could hope for was the calm that accompanied being numb.
            He desperately sought the anesthetized feeling. It was safer than the insane highs and raging lows that he swung so haphazardly back and forth from. He had lost his inner calm and he no longer felt like Gil Grissom, yet he could remember the way Gil Grissom felt.
            He had been cleaved in two, two symbiotic halves unable to survive on their own but never fully whole. It was how he found himself back to pushing and pulling Sara again. He needed her and loved her but he feared for her and wanted to protect her.       Grissom had found he was in an all or nothing struggle. He had to defeat the Bathorys or be destroyed. It was melodramatic, it was not reasonable but it was the unrelenting conviction of his fractured mind that drove him to be standing where he was.
            The metal catwalks and upper machinery cast disjointed shadows across the lower levels and obscured Grissom from questing eyes as he made his way farther into the factory. He watched as Jacob Toller made his way to the far end of the building before disappearing within a slapping pair of double doors.
            They were in there, Grissom thought as he scanned the windows of the two story office complex within the factory. The windows, covered lightly in dust revealed the abandoned offices within. From Grissom’s position they looked to be vacant, or nearly vacant. He couldn’t see any lights or movements.
            “Close enough,” he murmured under his breath. Quickly but silently he made his way to the meshed metal stairwell that snaked back and forth alongside the gray cinder block wall.
            Stepping onto the second tier his prickly senses  picked up the fact that someone was nearby and almost instantly he knew it was…”Sara,” he whispered as his had darted up and down looking for her. He could see her and Nick working their way along the machinery on the ground floor, slowly advancing on the center offices. Working in tandem one would cover as the other advanced and Grissom had to admit for a pair of scientists they played cop pretty good.